The Audiobook Released into the Wild

Today sees the release of my first audiobook, The Broken Token, done through the excellent people at Creative Content and spoken by the veteran actor Steven Pacey, who’s done similar work for authors like Susan Hill and Joanne Harris, both of whom are in my pantheon of greats, so I feel in esteemed company.

I received my copy last week, eight CDs of it. I’ll admit, I was full of trepidation when I put it in the CD player. At appearances I’ve read sections from the book numerous times. I know the language, the flow, the Leeds feel of it all. Above all, in my head I had the voices of the characters.

What I heard wasn’t those same voices; of course, it couldn’t be. As a wise woman told me, it’s an interpretation. But it’s an excellent one. His Amos Worthy seethes with menace, every bit as good as I could have hoped. Listening to it I’ve learned a great deal, most particularly that a book from someone else’s point of view will be different, but it can be just as good, if not even better, as those people come at it objectively.

So I’ve moved from trepidation to outright joy. More than that, to gratitude to the team and to Steven for putting so much into it, and finding things I’d never imagined. Go on, have a listen to an excerpt. You can do it here. I’ll guarantee that you won’t be disappointed. The audiobook has been released into the wild. May it soar high.

Let Good News Abound

It’s a time when good news seems to abound (and, aptly, it's Yorkshire Day). The other week, up in Leeds, I was showing my son the interior of Holy Trinity Church, which dates from the times of my Leeds novels. It suddenly struck me that this would be the ideal place for the launch of the fourth in the series, Come the Fear. After a quick word with the venue director – it’s now called Trinity Arts – things were set in motion, and a week ago everything was confirmed. There will be readings from the book by young actors, storytelling from a couple of England’s top storytellers – Shonaleigh and Simon Heywood (who’ll celebrate their marriage just two weeks before) – along with music and artwork from young artists inspired by passages from the novel. Hopefully a great evening’s entertainment, and for anyone around Leeds on the evening of September 14, come on down.

And then, yesterday, my publisher made an offer, which I accepted, for the next book in the series, At the Dying of the Year, which will be published February 2013 in the UK (June in the US). I’m thrilled. It was a difficult book to write, very emotional and draining. I won’t say why, but I will let slip that it’s the fifth in the Leeds series. Whether Richard Nottingham himself is in it – my mouth’s zipped, and if you read Come the Fear you’ll know why.

On top of that, I’m working on the publisher’s edits for the first of my Seattle books, Emerald City, which will appear as a simultaneous ebook and audiobook in the next few months and waiting to hear the audiobook version of The Broken Token. I feel as if I’m beginning to make at least a little headway. It’s been a long, hard slog, but when I finish something and feel that it’s good, it’s all worthwhile.

Another Book Finished

The fourth book in the Richard Nottingham series, Come The Fear, is now finished and with the publisher, so it’s breath-holding time as I wait to see if they like it. It’s always a good feeling to complete something, especially when I feel good about it (and I certainly do with this one).
Equally interesting, at least to me, is the process that went into it. When I wrote The Broken Token, I more or less blundered my way through it. I had a story I wanted to tell, but equally, I wanted to evoke the Leeds of the 1730s, in feel if not always absolutely historically accurate; my idea was that if a reader emerged thinking they’d experienced the period, I was successful, and it seems many did. I had my characters, and that was about it. I hadn’t even considered it in terms of a series.
But a series it’s become, and I’d like to think my professionalism as a writer has increased with each book. A series is an odd duck. Characters recur. Some leave, some die, new ones enter, but there must be development, and character has always been a central facet. I’ve come to love Richard Nottingham and those around him. When someone important leaves or dies, I actually grieve a little. I feel I know these people intimately, and their lives expand (or contract) as the books develop.
There’s more planning these days. I still essentially have just a starting point and an ending, and the characters dictate what happens, as if I’m watching a movie, but I’ve come to take on the role of director a little more. I sketch out ideas, which may or may not be used, and I approach each book with a much stronger idea of the focus (For Come The Fear that’s very much the poor and dispossessed, even more than in previous books) and how I want to approach it.
These books have their own tone, often poetic among the dirt and debris and an 18th century city, and I’m not even sure how that came about, but it’s part of the book’s landscape, and something I actively consider as I’m writer. I make note of phrases, which either come to me or are inspired by reading others, and these will be inserted, often during the revision phase.
So, publisher willing, Richard Nottingham will be back (book three is due out early 2012). Meanwhile, I’m working on a couple of other projects, a mystery set in the Seattle music scene of the late 1980s (I spent 20 years in the city, quite a few of them making my living writing about music’; for once I’m writing what I know!) and another mystery, a Leeds setting again, but during the Civil War, in 1645. Quite a while ago I knew I wanted to write novels that covered the history of Leeds, and this is the first step outside my comfort zone, so we’ll see how it pans out…

That Library Appearance...

There can be nothing quite so lovely, or so daunting, for an author as to talk to a group about his book. I felt flattered that Chapel Allerton library in Leeds had had all the tickets for my appearance there snapped up, and it was a good crowd sitting there. I talked. They asked questions (after an initial hesitation). Some of them, in the reading group there, had already read The Broken Token. Others hadn’t, so it was a no spoilers situation.

Two members of the library staff remembered my mother, an avid library user until her death, and one even recalled my father. That, perhaps, was the most gratifying thing of all for me, that sense of continuation. Plus the chance to walk around the old neighbourhood (even with blisters on my heels on aching feet from a pair of Doc Marten shoes that didn’t fit as well as they should). Old home week – or afternoon, at least.

As the icing on a delicious cake, a woman arrived bearing a tipstaff or cudgel from the period. It’s a lovely object, dated (apparently) 1719. It might be ceremonial, no one knows. She doesn’t even know how it ended up in her family, but having the chance to hold it gave me a real connection to Richard Nottingham. That was a magical moment for me.

There were great questions that required long answers, even if my voice was giving out towards the end. And, once it was over, they descended on me to buy copies. I’d taken 12 and could have sold more. Always nice, and it more than paid for my train fare and dinner (with a friend and her daughter) beforehand.

The only downside was time spent in the old St. Matthew’s graveyard, now a neglected and overgrown tangle. I know there are some fantastic old graves there, it just seems such a pity when, with a little effort, they could be on show to everyone, and people remembered.

On Libraries...And More

It’s been a little while since I blogged, partly because of hard work and partly because of a much-needed break in sunny Devon (and it was gloriously sunny, too, with the sea right at our door. Well, 30 yards away).

Cold Cruel Winter appears later this month. The first two chapters are up on ScribD, there’s an audio excerpt, my website (www.chrisnickson.co.uk) has been revamped – you can find the links there – and I’m all set.

I’m not doing many events to coincide with the book’s release, but I will be talking to a group in Nottingham that’s read The Broken Token, which should be real fun. The other event, next Wednesday, is in Leeds, and it’s given me pause to reflect on how special these events can be.

It’s at Chapel Allerton library. Until I left home at 18 I never lived further than a mile from that library. I first went there when I was three, it was my treasure house of books. At primary school my class would go there every week. I discovered so many authors there, Henry Treece, Jack Kerouac, probably an endless list. It was my mother’s local library until she died. We might have had very different taste in literature, but she used the library regularly. So, for me, it’s a real return to my roots, and that strikes as me a lovely, beautiful thing.

Under the cuts being proposed by the coalition in government, many future writers might not have the chance to write the words I just wrote. That’s robbing them of a future, and of an education they can’t get anywhere else. That’s not just a sin, it’s a crime, and we all need to do everything we can to prevent it happening. Not just for ourselves – I’m still an avid user of the library – but for the future.

The other part to this comes from an email I received from someone researching family history who came across The Broken Token. She evidently doesn’t have the real Richard Nottingham as an ancestor, but she does have a tipstaff – cudgel, truncheon – from the period that’s been handed down in her family. I has two brass badges, one the emblem of George 1, the other the hanging sheep of Leeds with the date 1719. How it relates to her family she’s not sure, but she’s hoping to attend next week’s event and bring it with her. The thought that I might be handling something that could have been touched by the original Richard Nottingham is aweful, in the very best sense. That’s what you call a connection with your character. If it happens, there will be pictures. There have to be.

At Year's End

Well, here we stand on the cusp of 2011, so it’s time to look back on the year that’s almost finished. Quite a year it’s been, too, certainly on the writing front.

Once again, I’m lucky enough to be paid for writing about music and musicians who have some meaning to me. Records labels sent me CDs for possible review (or send me downloads, as is becoming more common these days). I’m exposed to some of the most interesting music being made today – or in previous years, in the case of those glorious compilations of West African rock from the ‘60s and ‘70s. I have the chance to interview musicians like Tim Eriksen and Justin Adams whom I’ve come to know and respect. That’s pretty damn good.

The fact that people will pay me for all this stuff is still sometimes strange to me. I’m glad they do it, even if I’m not publishing as much music journalism as I did a decade ago. But with that lower quantity comes greater discrimination, so I’m definitely a happy bunny. And along the way I hear some great artists like Mama Roisin and Krista Detor I’d never have come across otherwise.

That said, my personal crowning achievement for this year has been the publication of The Broken Token. Or, rather, that was the first. The second was receiving a contract – with an advance – for my next two books. Now I’ve published plenty of non-fiction books, most of them crap that paid the bills handsomely, although holding my first-ever book was a magical feeling. It couldn’t compare to holding my first novel, though. That was my baby, nearly as lovely as my son. It had taken a long time to reach that stage, and now I’ve started on a new road. No idea where it will lead, but that’s part of the fun, really.

So, yes, I’m looking forward to 2011. More writing, the new novel out in May…life is good, and I hope that for the coming year yours is just as fine.

On Finishing That Final Edit

And so the edit for my second novel, called Cold Cruel Winter, seems to be over. At least, it’s gone back to the editor, although there might still be a few minor points to discuss.

Am I happier with it? Well, happier than with my first, given that I approached the book with more knowledge of my shortcomings and attempted to correct them. The proof, however, will be in the pudding, which is what readers and reviews think when it appears in May. But I do believe it’s a 100 per cent improvement on the first novel.

The map of Leeds has been drawn by a very talented artist and looks very good indeed. Given that the book revolves around the streets and landmarks of the city, I think a map helps place and ground it for those who don’t know the place, and aids them in finding their bearings. I want the Leeds of 1732 to live for people reading it.

Finishing that edit, saving the file and sending it back is a little like seeing a child leave home – or at least going to school. There will still be the proofs to read through, of course, but the real work is all done.

And meanwhile I’m more than halfway through the third book in the series ( currently known as The Constant Lovers), which is a bit of a surprise. The Broken Token - the first novel - feels like the work of someone else now, in many ways. The characters of Richard Nottingham and John Sedgwick have grown, but I’ve grown even more. This playing God thing is quite fun, as long as I don’t let it get out of hand.

Reflective

As I prepare to head off to Derby tomorrow to sell copies of The Broken Token to an unsuspecting Derbyshire public, I’m feeling mild contentment. Not only did I receive my first royalties on the book today, yesterday I signed and sent off the contracts for the next two books in the series.

Knowing that the publishing future is secure for the next couple of years is a relief, and that someone, somewhere, likes these books and believes in them enough to pay me money to write them is a real vindication. Will they sell in huge amounts? Probably not, but that’s fine. If each one builds a new audience then in time they’ll attract a crowd rather than a gaggle and life will be good.

One thing I have concluded is that writing is a craft, in the same way that designing and constructing fine furniture is. You need to have the idea in your head and the ability to put it together. That’s skill, yes, from some small glimmer of inspiration, and that’s what all writing is.

We learn from everything we do, and writers also learn from all that they write, especially when you have a good editor. I’ve been lucky to have a few, particularly for my music writing, who’ve improved my work tremendously. I have an excellent editor for my novels, and I’m grateful to all of those who’ve worked hard to help. I’m lucky, too, in having a close friend who’s the best writer I know, and who reads my novels and offers suggestions that always improve them (I do the same for him, but whether I improve his work or not, I’m not sure).

Writing is a very solitary occupation. It’s not glamorous; it involves hours of sitting and typing. You live in your head a great deal. But it can prove to be an interesting, occasionally magical, place…

Promoting Your Book

Many writers think that the publication of a book is the end of the process. After that it’s just a case of sitting back and waiting the royalty cheques.

Wrong.

It’s just the beginning. Once the book is out there people have to buy it, and to do it, they need to know it’s there and be convinced. Many writers with small, independent publishers know their publisher has no promotional budget. Even those with big publishers can find themselves not being pushed. So who’s going to take on the load? The writer. After all, it’s your book.

Contacts are important. In my case, I’d done some writing for a regional paper. When The Broken Token was published the paper did a short feature on me (I had a hook to the story, which made it more attractive to them). Since I also work as a music journalist, I was able to find another general writer at another paper through musician friends. That brought another piece with the great pull quote that my historical mystery “reads like an 18th century Red Riding.” Not true, of course, but it sounds good.

The point is to use the contacts that you have. It might take some persistence, but it does help sales. You have to make yourself visible. Use those publicity copies wisely to go to people you feel can help.

Plenty of people blog about writing. They want to review books, do interviews with writers. Research, find out who these people are and contact them. Word your query in such a way as to make your book and yourself fascinating (well, you’re a writer, you can do that). Not everyone will agree, but every time someone does, it’s more publicity.

Create a website. With all the software around these days, it’s easy to do. It doesn’t need to be huge, it simply needs to be attractive and do the job, telling people about the book, where to buy it. Use Facebook – have a Facebook page for your book. Get yourself on Twitter, an excellent way to network. Start blogging, too. It doesn’t all have to be about your book. Again, it’s getting your name out there.

Record an extract from your book, a self-contained piece running 5-7 minutes. Add a slideshow of pictures and put it up on You Tube. It’s one other weapon in your arsenal.

Bookshops love authors. Contact some of the small ones near you and say you’d be interested in doing a book signing there. Go in and sell yourself to them. Contact Waterstone’s, too. They generally have local writers in on Saturday mornings to do signings. You might need to contact them several times to elicit a response but it’s worthwhile.

When you do a signing don’t just sit at a table and wait for people to approach you. Unless you’re a big name, that won’t happen. Grab a couple of copies of your book, head off to the relevant section (such as mysteries) and start talking to people. You need to be outgoing and friendly. Convince them to take a punt on your book. It can work – at the Leeds Waterstone’s in August I sold out their stock of my book, 14 copies, in an hour. That astonished me. But if I can do it, anyone else can.

Contact the small literary festivals in your area. Talk to the organisers and it can result in an invitation. Maybe not this year, but possibly next.

Libraries need speakers for groups. Contact the person in your area who’s in charge of this. Send a copy of your book and offer your services. You might not get paid, but you can sell copies of the book after. Most people will buy, and it can be fun to do.

All of these things require effort, of course, but the outlay is minimal. It all helps to make people aware of your book, and of you as an author. Every single copy sold is a victory. Enjoy every single one. Put as much effort into selling your book as you did into writing it.

New Novels and the Problem of Literary Agents

Now 12,000 words into The Constant Lovers. The Broken Token was published in America last week, and I’m awaiting word from a pair of publishers about Drive the Cruel Winter Away.

I would happily have stayed with my publisher, but she’s sold out to someone larger (one of the publishers considering the new book). It’s a shame when that happens, having built up an excellent relationship, but she has her reasons, and I respect that. I was pleasantly surprised to receive interest from another publisher, so it’s a case of wait and see what happens, and whether one, or both, make offers on the book.

With this you’d have thought it should be no problem finding a literary agent. Instead it’s just as difficult as if I’d never been published. One, recommended by a fellow author (who also told her agent I’d be getting in touch) hasn’t even bothered to answer my e-mail. Another has my book but has yet to reply; I’ve been advised to give her a month.

All of this makes me greatly appreciate the non-fiction agent I had in America. She replied very promptly, and if she believed something was saleable it tended to sell in days. Fiction is a different beast, I understand that, and that agents can be overwhelmed with submissions. However, you might imagine a record of 30 non fiction books, countless articles, one novel, and 16 years of making a living as a writer (not to mention the interest from two publishers on the second novel) might carry a little clout. Apparently not. The attitudes I’ve had have been decidedly offhand.

Ah well, such is life, it seems. There might well be a good agent out there who’s truly interested in working with someone.

Susan Hill

Just reading the newest Susan Hill, The Shadows In The Street. It’s her fifth detective novel, all featuring a police, Simon Serrailler. Forget the Ian Rankins and Peter Robinsons or whoever else. She is simply the very best in the field. All of the novels are so superbly textured, with characters who are totally, utterly alive and three-dimensional. It’s what I aspired to in The Broken Token and also in the new one, but reading her makes me realise just how far I have to go. These are books about characters with full lives – even the confirmed bachelor Serrailler – where the mystery comes second. You feel these people, you know them you’re sorry to feel them go when the book ends.
I’d just re-read The Pure in Heart, the second in the series, and even there it’s note-perfect. She’s an acclaimed writer, of course, although the other books of hers I’ve tried haven’t touched me like these. With these, it seems, she’s opened up a beautifully rich vein, and she deserves to be celebrated for them. If Richard Nottingham and my other creations can come close to this level I’ll feel I’ve done something. The mystery novel is all too often derided as genre fiction (albeit less than used to be the case) but Susan Hill creates literature of the highest order.

The Words of Life 1

There’s great joy in being a writer. Even more so when you hold your first novel in your hand. For most writers this is the Grail, what we all dream about, what turns us into writers on the first place.
Even after around 30 non-fiction books, holding The Broken Token was a profoundly moving experience. Now, after almost 3 months, the trick is still to sell the damn thing, to see those copies flying out of bookstores.
But now it becomes just one part of the problem. I’m almost one-third of the way through the second novel to feature Richard Nottingham, and the challenge is not just to come up with a good mystery element (always the lesser part to me) than to make the characters grow, to make them, and the Leeds of March 1732 even more real.